Loving Men-Stride

At long last I think that I’ve broken free from the cantor, and am now in my stride in Charlotte.

I was ruminating while getting dressed this morning: I, at 60, left everything in Chicago, and decided, against the odds, to fly to Paris to meet a model I’d never met before. When Artem never materialized, I went on the hunt and fell into Jean-Baptiste’s lap. He and I stayed together, entwined like Creeping Ivy for three weeks.